At first you think it's an act of God. A storm came, the water rose, the water flooded your house.

A more complete understanding of the truth comes to you slowly. It didn't have to happen. You learn that were it not for the incompetence of man your house, the storehouse of all your earthly treasures, may not have flooded -- at least not flooded to the rafters.

Had your loss been inevitable, it would have been easier to accept, but the knowledge that it was preventable embittered you, at least temporarily. You lost things you know you can never replace: pictures of your parents, jewelry, crumbling love letters, recipes. But, God be praised, the one thing you can replace, you can afford to replace.

You spent years paying the premium on a flood insurance policy despite being told the likelihood of your house flooding was next to nil. Or perhaps your financial philosophy was formed before the spend, spend, spend mentality of contemporary America and you regularly set aside money as your parents and grandparents, aunties and uncles instructed you to do.

Whatever the reason, you have money: tens of thousands of dollars that you hand over to a contractor who promises you good work. Your house is going to look just like it looked before Aug. 29, 2005, if not a whole lot better. The contractor's name is Terry Ferguson. He's from Georgia but he came over after Katrina because he saw how many good people there were like you, decent people, looking for somebody you could trust to do good work.

Incompetence you could take. You'd taken it already when you considered the facts that led to the flooding. But you were caught off guard by evil. You were taken aback that Ferguson, who really did strike you as somebody you could trust, never had any intention of helping you, that he saw you not as a human being in a desperate circumstance, but as a mark. Your determination to get back into your house wasn't his concern; your money was.

If you are 80-year-old Ernestine Magee, you gave Ferguson more than $50,000, but could never reach him to find out when he was going to do all he promised on your house in eastern New Orleans.

You're not alone. There were 16 other families in New Orleans who were taken advantage of just as you were. Ferguson's combined haul from all of you was about $500,000.

Did you see him in court Wednesday? Pleading guilty to 16 felony counts of fraud and one misdemeanor? Did you notice he had a court-appointed attorney with him, a lawyer who represents poor folks? Did you want to yell out "Objection!" and ask how he could be poor when you gave him all your money?

If you are 52-year-old Henry Muse, who works in maintenance at a hospital, you are still working on your home in eastern New Orleans because Ferguson took your money and didn't do the work he promised to do. Nobody has to ask you twice: "Maximum on each charge" is your recommendation for Ferguson's punishment. If he were given the maximum for each of the 16 felony counts and those sentences were imposed consecutively, he'd have a grand total of 160 years, but you still wouldn't be whole. You'd rather have your money.

Are you filled with anger and hate? Not if you're Catherine Abrams, a great-grandmother with a house on Mirabeau Avenue. Ferguson threw in a bunch of wires behind your walls, put up dry wall and charged you for rewiring. Already robbed, you had to pay to undo the damage he did. And yet you say, "I have to forgive him. I can't go around hating him, because that would be worse for me."

You are a saint. Surely there's a heavenly treasure awaiting you. But honestly? You deserved to have your earthly one, too.

Jarvis DeBerry is an editorial writer. He can be reached at 504.826.3355 or at jdeberry@timespicayune.com.